


It's All For This

by brilliant_or_insane



Category: Mission: Impossible (Movies)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Pre-Slash, Sharing Clothes, but they're very much already in love, that thing we made up where Ethan is always cold, their job is harsh but they are kind
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-12
Updated: 2020-08-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:13:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25855690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brilliant_or_insane/pseuds/brilliant_or_insane
Summary: They’re walking in companionable silence, Benji blessing the good fortune that led to his and Ethan’s walks home running parallel, when Benji glances over to find Ethan shivering.“Really Ethan?” he asks, hiding his smile. “It’s a balmy sixty-seven degrees, almost too warm for a stroll. You can’t becold.”
Relationships: Benji Dunn/Ethan Hunt
Comments: 13
Kudos: 61
Collections: Benthan Week 2020





	It's All For This

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Demigoat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Demigoat/gifts).



> Gifted to Demi because my plan for this story was initially somewhat different, but then their [coffee fic](https://benthan-week-2020.tumblr.com/post/626082715574419456/five-times-ethan-brought-benji-coffee) lodged in my brain and I accidentally wrote this instead.

They’re walking in companionable silence, Benji blessing the good fortune that led to his and Ethan’s walks home running parallel, when Benji glances over to find Ethan shivering.

“Really Ethan?” he asks, hiding his smile. “It’s a balmy sixty-seven degrees, almost too warm for a stroll. You can’t be _cold_.”

Ethan grins sheepishly. “You know very well that being cold at unreasonable temperatures is one of my talents.”

“Ah yes, one of the most indispensable in the field.”

“Naturally.”

Benji rolls his eyes affectionately, then offers up the soft grey jacket slung over his arm. “Here, put this on.”

“No, I’m fine,” Ethan says quickly, then adds, “though I have been wondering why you brought that—we’re at least ten degrees away from you wanting it.”

“True, because as previously established, it’s not cold,” Benji assents, trying to sound nonchalant. “But I saw the weather forecast this morning, and I knew you’d manage to be shivering anyway.”

“Oh,” Ethan breathes, and appears almost to be gathering himself before resuming lightly, “Well, I’d hate to waste your thoughtfulness, so I suppose …”

Benji hands over the jacket and Ethan slips it on, taking advantage of the too-long sleeves to grab the ends and close his hands within the fabric. Benji tries not to look _quite_ as pleased as he feels.

At length they reach the crossroad where their paths diverge, and Ethan immediately begins to remove the jacket.

“No, please keep it,” Benji says, “you’ve still got ten minutes of walking ahead.”

“I can run the distance,” Ethan objects, “and this is your favorite jacket.”

Smiling around the warmth of Ethan knowing as much without having been told, Benji reaches out and tugs it firmly back down.

“Quite right, and I like it all the more for keeping you warm. Besides, I trust you to get it back to me safely.”

“I will, I promise,” Ethan answers as solemnly as if he’d been handed a sacred trust, and Benji suspects he’ll be seeing that jacket again bright and early, and in inexplicably better condition than when he bought it. “Thank you, Benji.”

* * *

As it turns out, they see one another again even sooner than expected, thanks to an assignment calling them out to the field at the delightful hour of 2 AM, just three hours after they parted ways due to having been kept late at the office.

By 3:30 AM they are kneeling in the shadows of an innocuous-looking office building that’s apparently a front for a fledgling terrorist organization, because of course it is. Only the two of them plan to enter, but Luther is on the comm running point and Ilsa is stationed as lookout and potential backup.

They don’t expect real trouble—nothing is easier to breach than a glass window, and the fact that the organization picked a building comprised of little else proves their amateur status. Still, there is a level of risk involved in any field-work, and Benji doesn’t think he’ll ever stop being nervous at the onset.

Perhaps Ethan knows that, and perhaps that’s why he pauses before removing the circle of glass he’s carefully cut from the pane, places a hand on Benji’s shoulder, and says, “I washed your jacket and have it in the car. Don’t let me forget to give it to you when we’re done here.”

Several thoughts pass through Benji’s mind, including: _you’re talking as if survival is a forgone conclusion to calm me_ , and _you should have worn it, it’s colder than it was three hours ago_ , and _I love you_. But the thought rises to the surface and makes its way out is: “How the _fuck_ did you have time to wash it?”

Ethan only smiles, and carefully removes the circle of glass.

*

What was supposed to be a simple reconnaissance mission transitions seamlessly into sneaking on a plane bound for Cuba, and Benji can’t find it in himself to be particularly surprised, or anything really besides desperate for a nap.

But Ethan, apparently, has space in his mind for at least one other thought. Because when all is said and done and they are sat leaning against a concrete wall, dusty and bruised and only barely not-exploded, Ethan reaches out to pat Benji’s knee consolingly and say, “Sorry we didn’t have time to grab the jacket.”

Benji lets out a noise that is disconcertingly like a giggle. He’s too foggy to formulate a clever response, but that’s alright, because Ethan’s hand is still resting on his knee, and he doesn’t withdraw when Benji palaces his own hand over it.

* * *

Benji flies to London to spend the brief leave granted to agents after a taxing field op with his family. By the time he returns Ethan has already been shipped off who-knows-where on an undercover mission for who-knows-how-long, so some time passes before they see one another again.

These are the worst times times, when he has no clue what Ethan is doing, what danger he might be in, if he’s even made it this long. It’s worse even than watching him cling to the side of a plane as it gains altitude, or finding him half-drowned on a concrete ledge. Because at least if Benji is there he might be able to do something; at least if there’s nothing he can do the terror is as brief as it is acute.

So, all in all, it’s more of a relief than anything else when he’s awoken at midnight by the ringing of a burner phone that was very definitely not in his bedside table last time he opened the drawer, even if Ethan’s first words aren’t comforting: “Hi Benji! So sorry to wake you; I’m in a bit of a bind.”

Knowing just how sorry Ethan always is to pull him onto a mission to which he wasn’t assigned, Benji has no doubt that ‘a bit of a bind’ is an astronomical understatement. “Hang in there Ethan, what can I do?”

“Don’t worry, we’ve got some time. You’ll need equipment from headquarters—sorry—then I’ll talk you through what needs to be done.”

“Got it,” Benji answers, putting the phone on speaker while he grabs the first clothes that come to hand and pulls them on.

“Oh, and Benji?”

“Yep?” Benji returns the phone to his ear as he hurries out the door.

“I just want you to know, whatever happens—”

“Nope, we’re not going there,” Benji cuts in, breaking into a run and fervently hoping that whatever-this-is wraps up efficiently so he can start breathing again.

“No, I don’t mean that! I was just going to say that I gave Luther your jacket for safekeeping, so whatever happens it won’t be harmed.”

Benji barks a surprised laugh, and as Ethan’s soft chuckle carries through the phone Benji can picture his self-satisfied smile. He doesn’t quite blurt out _god, I love you_ , but it’s a near thing.

* * *

Another hellish week passes before Benji hears a knock on the door and opens it to find Ethan swaying ever so slightly and sporting a black eye, stitches across his forehead, a limp left arm, and a giant grin.

“Ethan!” Benji gasps, “what the hell—you were in a hospital in Taiwan yesterday!”

“Quite right! Then I was released, then I came here.”

“I’m glad you at least waited to be released,” Benji mutters, wishing he were joking, “but why—you know what, forget it, come in, let’s get you comfortable.”

Ethan shakes his head. “No, I don’t mean to intrude. I just,” he looks suddenly sheepish, “well. I just have something of yours to return.”

He holds out a gray, plastic-wrapped object that Benji had scarcely bothered to register, and there’s no question now of what it is. Feeling oddly blank, Benji takes it and picks at the plastic.

“I, uh, wrapped it up because I didn’t want to get blood on it,” Ethan says, adding when Benji looks up sharply, “Not that I’m still bleeding! Just a precaution.”

Benji supposes he ought to feel touched, but in this moment he’s just. Tired. “You can’t do this to yourself Ethan. It’s just a jacket. It doesn’t matter.”

Ethan frowns softly. “Benji, I’m fine. I hardly went ten minutes out of my way to stop by here. Besides. It is important.”

Benji refocuses on Ethan, suddenly unsure of himself. He’d thought this whole jacket business was some light game taken too far. But just now, Ethan seems utterly sincere.

“I don't think I understand.”

“What we do in the field—it matters. Of course it does. But only because there are people out there enjoying a good meal and holding hands and sharing their jackets with cold friends. If returning your favorite jacket didn’t matter, I’d retire tomorrow.”

Ethan’s words sink in, and Benji smiles. A new exhaustion sweeps over him, the endlessly building tremble of muscles held tight giving way to the collapse that comes with release. This period of fear, like the one before and the one before that, is over. And all is well.

“Welcome back, Ethan,” he says, and if Ethan had been in better condition he might have lost all decorum and let himself sway forward into his arms.

As things are, the soft relief of Ethan’s smile is enough.


End file.
